


before the storm

by powderblew



Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Canon Compliant, F/M, Female Reader, Unresolved Sexual Tension, idk where my brain went with this, ilhsm, mild violence, oikawa is just a nosy menace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: He can’t stop looking at her. —Oikawa/Reader
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Series: clear skies and warm nostalgia [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192649
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	before the storm

Oikawa always takes Mondays off.

It’s a resting period. It allows his muscles to rest, grow and strengthen. Today, he couldn’t help it. After that fuck-up with Karasuno, he had to push himself to get better, to get faster, to perfect his technique—his footwork. There are so many things he needed to work on and leaving them up to his own self-pity isn’t how he does things.

His fingers shake when he reaches for his water bottle, the tremors start to set as soon as his muscle realizes the resting period and his bones ache with every breath he takes. He swears silently, as he struggles to take small sips, sweat beading the back of his neck and settling behind his knees.

There’s a difference between winning, playing, and losing. The harsh sting of defeat intermingled with the desire to _be_ better, to _get_ better, and applying that same concept to his new strategies is both exhilarating and exhausting.

Using the towel to mop up the back of his neck, he haphazardly shoves his head through his hoodie and grabs his bag. Maybe if he’s quick, he can get to the convenience store before closing and pick up some ramen—milkbread if he’s lucky.

When walks down the stairs from the main gymnasium, his sneakers squeaking against the marble and he pauses when he catches something from the corner of his eye.

.

It’s the dark of their hair, the men that surround her as she leans against the stretch limo with a cigarette hanging from her lips and a blank expression on her face.

She can’t be a year older than him, maybe a few months or something, but there’s a distinct faintness to her face that he recognizes.

He hides behind a corridor – his heart throbs in his chest – back flat against the wall, head resting against the sheetrock, he tries to quiet his mind in an attempt to listen better. He glances at the window in front of him and watches the scenario through the reflection.

“—run your mouth,” The one with red-hair clicks his tongue, he circles the guy – the offender – lazily, “Princess here, don’t need to clean up the messes you lot make.”

“She does it anyway,” another guy chimes in.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” the offender cries out.

“No,” the redhead sniffs, “You didn’t. You slipped up. You made a mistake and now the princess has to make nice with those bad men.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen.

_Princess._

“I—” the offender stammers and straightens up. There’s a hard glimmer of defiance in his eyes, Oikawa sees the way his fists clench at his sides, and he wonders if that guy is just _stupid._

“I’m too good for revenge,” the redhead comments dramatically and tilts his head in a surprisingly vulnerable action.

“Well,” she speaks up and the volleyball player stiffens at the soft voice, “I’m not. Give me the knife.”

Oikawa’s eyes are glued to the window.

“Do you know the American sport,” she starts off casually, so casually as she lifts the knife upwards, the edge glittering like sterling silver underneath the sun, “Baseball?”

No one speaks.

She continues, “They have this term, you know, when you can’t get the job done,” she grabs his arm and the redhead holds him down. She marks a line down his wrist with the blade – so quick he doesn’t even realize it’s done until it is – and ignores the man’s hiss, “ _Three strikes and you’re out._ Let’s not get to three, shall we, Hyuuga-san?”

Then she flickers her eyes to the window.

Oikawa’s heart sits in his throat as she makes eye contact with him and—and he _swears_ he cannot breathe because she is static, but still, the air in his lungs seems to have disappeared all at once.

“Let’s go,” she says and even as she gets in the car, her eyes remain on the window.

Oikawa counts his heartbeats and waits until she leaves before walking out of the corridor; he thinks— _thinks_ that he goes to school with her.

He wonders if he finds her tomorrow and calls her _princess_ if he’s considered suicidal.

Oikawa presses a hand to the throbbing organ sitting underneath his breast; not even volleyball brought him this kind of adrenaline.

**Author's Note:**

> pls drop a comment on your way out <3  
> catch me on [tumblr](https://sleepysonia.tumblr.com)


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